


faterunner

by disgruntledwritingcat



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Arym Neim'leif, Canon Universe, Ever evolving tag list, Gen, Multi, Multi-Classed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Pairings what pairings, Tags Are Hard, There's a plot somewhere here, WoL needs therapy, forever in progress, some canon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23541427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledwritingcat/pseuds/disgruntledwritingcat
Summary: Running from something that threatens to swallow her whole, Arym Neim'leif leaves the safety of the Golmore Jungle and the Wood within only to find herself swallowed by something far larger: the fate of the world around her.A collection of scenes following Arym as she becomes the Warrior of Light and the trials that she faces along the way.[ Spoilers for all content up through 5.25, eventually ]
Kudos: 9





	1. wash ashore

She was running.

She was always running. 

Chakrams loose in her fingers, she flung herself from the cliff edge she hurdled towards. For a moment she was flying, weighted down by nothing and no one. Then the Mist fueled bullets flew past her head and she began to fall. Feet met earth, body rolled and then feet found purchase again and she continued her breakneck pace. 

Ever since she’d left the Wood, she’d been running. Running from monsters, running from Magiteck, running from her fate. Running from herself. 

One shot grazed her cheek with deadly accuracy. 

She leapt over a boulder and twisted, wrist flicking with Mist infused force. The chakram sliced through the neck of her pursuer and returned to her awaiting fingers with a simple flex of the digits. The woman completed her twist and kept running without watching to see if they fell. 

The cliffs came without warning, this time. 

One moment the ground was beneath her, the next she was over open water - open ocean - and the rocky shore below. 

She screamed.

And the sea swallowed her whole. 

* * *

_ ‘By t’Twelve, s’e’s alive!’  _

_ ‘Quick, get ‘er t’a ‘ealer!’ _

_ ‘Hells how’d she survive?!’ _

_ ‘...Rest, child, you’re safe…’ _

* * *

The woman groaned, wincing in pain as consciousness floated through her bones. She felt like she’d fallen from one of the boughs of the Wood again. Pressing a hand to her head, she sat up.

“Oi, lassie yer awake,” said a voice to her right. She turned to look at the owner, only to find she had to turn her head a little further. “Bugger ‘bout the eye, though.”

“What happened?” she asked, focusing on the source of the voice. Sitting in a chair was a older man, Hyur by all regards. He gave her a small smile, eyebrows raising a little at her accent. 

“S’what I was hopin’ ya could answer fer me’,” he said with a chuckle. “Name’s Baderon. Some sailors fished ya outta t’water o’er twelve suns ago ‘afl dead an’ drowned. Brought ya t’arcanists fer healin’. Been ‘ere e’er since.” She blinked, rubbing her right eye. It was… Milky, as if she was looking through murky water. Rubbing at it seemed to help clear the murk, but not bring color to it. 

“...Twelve suns? It’s been… twelve suns…” she said slowly, blinking several more times. Her fingers touched a long thin section of skin from the corner of her eye to her hairline. She froze. The bullet. That gods damned bullet. 

“T’did best t’could given t’state. S’not perfect, but yer’ll be able t’see at least,” he said, voice even and calm. Much more calm than the fear and panic running through her chest. Dual eyes, one teal one silver white stared at Baderon, then flicked around the small room. Her chakrams, her chakrams where were her chakrams!? “Woah, woah lassie, yer safe, ain’t no one’s gunna get ya here. Won’t allow it.”

Her eyes snapped back to him and she bared her teeth briefly, showing small sharp canines. This one could be with them, this one could have trapped her. Finally, finally she was caught. If only she had her chakrams… it did not matter, she could end him with her nails if she needed to. 

His hands came up as she crouched onto the bed. “Lassie. Lassie. I mean ya no ‘arm. Just wanna know w’at ‘appened t’ya, is all.” Her nose twitched, long red ears twitching on her head. She heard nothing from outside the room, smelled nothing from him or the room. No gun powder. The Mist was strong here, though, and her nose burned with it. 

Slowly, slowly she sank back into the bed and let tension fall from her shoulders. 

“I am called Arym Neim’leif. I was… running, chased by people with Magiteck. I killed one with my weapons. I fell off of a cliff into the sea,” she said, recounting what she could. She could not remember why she’d been running, what first started it. She remembered the Wood, the Golmore Jungle. The Sand Sea around Rabanastre… but how she got to the ocean, she could not recall. Or why she’d left the Wood.

“Arym, eh? Pretty different. Ya must be… one of them Viera, yeh? We been gettin’ some o’yer kind past few moons.” Baderon scratched his chin with a finger for a moment. “Well, when yer feelin’ up t’it, t’Adventure’s Guild could always use a lassie of yer skills. If ya can survive near drownin’ an’ come out wit’ only a bum eye t’show fer it, I think ya could handle anythin’ thrown at ya.” 

The Hyur stood and half turned to the door before pausing. He gestured to the table with a hand. “Yer probably be wantin’ yer effects; had t’pry ‘em outta yer hands ya wouldn’t let ‘em go.” Baderon gave a nod and left the room. 

Arym scrambled off the bed to the bundle on the table. She unwrapped the bundle to find two round pieces of metal, tinted blue with a small grip on one side. A hand ghosted over them and she let out a heavy breath. They were safe. The one piece of the Wood she brought with her, the one reminder of her mother. 

If it had been almost a fortnight since she’d fallen from the cliff…

Perhaps she’d finally escaped that fate. 

* * *

“You said there was work if I wanted it?” asked Arym some bells later, standing in the Drowning Wench with the salty air in her nose and the bustle of the city of Limsa Lominsa in her ears. Baderon gave her a wide grin.

“Aye, lassie. We’come to t’Adventurer’s Guild!”


	2. call of the rose

Limsa Lominsa was both a twisting loop of platforms and bridges - not too different from navigating the Wood - and extremely straightforward. As straightforward as a lawful hive of pirates could be, anyway. Everything here was a little too loud, a little too crass, yet in the moons since Arym arrived it became like home. She walked into the Drowning Wench, heels clicking against the wood. The tavern floor was busy, but not overly so, and some of the Lominisians gave a nod or a wave as she passed through. 

To say that she’d become something of a force of nature within the Adventurer’s Guild was, well...

Baderon raised a hand in greeting from the bar, then returned to the small group of adventurers in front of him. Her sensitive ears twitched and brought her sounds of their conversation as she approached. 

‘A’m sorry folks, t’job’s already been claimed,” said Baderon who crossed his arms and shrugged. One of the group in front of him let out a growl, a dark furred Hrothgar marauder who clenched and unclenched his fists.

“You promised us that job, Baderon,” he snarled, tail lashing behind him. One of his companions - a small Lalafell wielding a cane - ducked around the other side of another companion to avoid the angry tail. Arym came up behind them, leaning against one of the masts used as a structural column, and waited. 

“Don’t remember promisin’ ya anythin’, Jurl. S’not my fault ya got ‘ere t’late,” said the tavern keep, leveling a stare at the Hrothgar. Jurl bared his teeth at him. 

“You worthless son of a bitch Hyur, and you call yourself part of the Adventurer's Guild?!” roared the large man, fist slamming against the bar counter. A crack of wood echoed through the tavern, leaving silence in its wake. All eyes in the open air space turned to the snarling Hrothgar. Hissing steel broke the silence as every single patron unsheathed a sword, a dagger, or some other weapon.

No one, save the Admiral herself, messed with Baderon. Everyone in the city knew that. Except, it seemed, this petulant ass.

Arym pressed the bladed edges of a chakram to the back of the Hrothgar’s neck, not quite enough to break the skin. Just enough to get the point across. 

“Ah, lassie, good t’see’ya! How’d t’hunt go?” said Baderon, as if he didn’t have Jurl in front of him wanting to murder him. Jurl moved as much as he dared to look at Arym. Dual eyes looked down at the large man, one eyebrow raised in challenge. He bared his teeth. Arym pressed down  _ just _ a little bit harder. The teeth hid behind his lips.

“It went very well, Baderon. I do not think that Sastasha will be much of a problem for a while yet,” she said casually. She sidestepped around the Hrothgar and his companions to place the job posting on the counter in front of them. It was still slightly sticky with sahagin blood. One look over her shoulder, through that white eye of hers, sent the two companions fleeing towards one of the tavern exits. 

Jurl stared at her as though she had a second head. “Y… you!? You took the job!?” He looked her up and down in rapid succession. She tilted her head to the side. “You… you’re nothin’ but a ---”

Fingers found purchase on his throat and she squeezed through the thick muscle and fur. Arym invaded his space as close as a lover and as lethal as an assassin. She felt him try to gulp against the grip of her fingers.

“You do not want to finish that sentence, Hrothgar,” she whispered against his ear. “If I see you again, it will not be my fingers against your throat. Is that clear?” His head moved up and down. She stepped back, fingers releasing the man and turned her attention to Baderon. Jurl scrambled off behind her, muttering something about ‘you demon woman!’ under his breath. 

The whole thing had taken less than a minute, maybe two if she was generous.

Baderon let out a sigh, crossing his arms. “Lassie, ya gunna scary off all t’Guild folk one’a t’days, ya know that?” chuckled the barkeep with a shake of his head. Arym shrugged and settled her hip against the counter. He took the damp job posting and winced. “An’ I wish ya wouldn’t bring t’postin’s back… damp…” 

“It is  _ mostly _ sea water, Baderon,” she replied dryly. One of the sahagin blasted her into the ocean while trying to protect their boss, drenching her from head to toe. She mostly had arrived back in Limsa dried out except for some of the items in her pack, the job posting being one of them. It happened to have some of the same sahagin’s blood also on it, but overall Arym felt she’d done an exceptional job this time. It wasn’t covered in slime, nor was it eaten! That was a marked improvement over the last few jobs she’d taken. 

He raised an eyebrow at her, not replying. A bag of gil landed on the counter, along with a letter. Arym took the gil, eying the letter with suspicion. She’d made some acquaintances here and there, and that Miqo’te, what was her name Y’shtola? That one was a capable fighter, for someone who called themselves a scholar. She could handle herself against a raging Goobue with more confidence than most of the adventurers in the Guild. Arym would not mind teaming up with her again in the slightest if she was being truthful.

That aside, no one else would deign to write to her of all people. 

Not when she’d been dubbed ‘the Whirling Dervish’ her second week in Limsa. It was an apt title, one she’d come to after accidentally taking the heads off seven training dummies with her chakrams. At once. Most didn’t talk to her once they’d realized the lethality of her weapons and the precision she wielded them with. 

So the fact that she had a letter? Addressed to her? Every warning bell went off in her head, panic rolling up her spine. She didn’t recognize the script on the front - nor did she even expect her sisters to know she was  _ alive _ much less here. The Mist that curled off of it gave her even more pause. She could see it, actually see the Mist collected on the parchment. It was faint, and only seemed to be with her right eye, but she could see the wisps of it float into the air. Had it always been that way, she wasn’t sure. 

“Letta’ fer ya. Looks like ya made a’impression on t’Scions of t’Seventh Dawn,” he told her, arms crossing again. He did that whenever he got serious, she’d noticed over the last moons. It wasn’t always in response to something dangerous or unsettling; he often did it with unruly patrons or new Adventurer’s Guild members. Usually there was some sort of mirth in his eyes, or an upturn to his mouth. Arym watched his face and saw none of the usual good nature. He caught her eyes, glancing at the unopened letter again. “T’good people, kinda eccentric, but not bad.”

His words did nothing to calm her nerves. “However…?” prompted Arym, still watching him. He looked up and smiled. It felt a little forced, not quite reaching his eyes. 

“Thin’s be movin’ an’ I dunno if I like it, s’all. All t’business w’t’Sahagin in Sastasha, t’Reavers…” Baderon shook his head, waving a hand. He smiled at her, a genuine one this time, and pushed the letter towards her. 

“Lassie, yer meant fer more than Limsa. If t’Scions want ya, t’means ya be doin’ good in t’world.” Arym took up the letter, finally, and opened it. His words didn’t exactly assuage her fears, but if Baderon thought they were upstanding, then who was she to argue. He hadn’t led her wrong yet. She gave a nod and stepped away to read the letter.

The letter read simply: “You and I fought well together. Meet with Momodi in the Quicksand in Ul’dah and she will tell you more. Included is a writ of travel; the airships should be available to you now. I look forward to seeing you again. - Y’shtola”. As she’d stated, a writ of travel was included inside. Arym looked over to where the lift gate was and hesitated. Limsa was her home, her very salty, very crass Wood. Here she was safe, here she was protected. 

Wasn’t that the same as the Wood she’d left all those moons ago though? 

The lift attendant gave her a nod as the doors closed behind her and she descended down towards the airship landings. 

Arym left the sea breezes of Limsa, and the wheels of fate slowly began to turn.


End file.
